


Impulse control

by Elisexyz



Series: Whumptober 2019 (AOS) [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Hydra Grant Ward, Hydra Jemma Simmons, Minor Injuries, Post-Uprising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-01 11:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Grant is a sweet, loving man.





	Impulse control

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Gunpoint" prompt in the Whumptober 2019 event. I am several days late with this prompt, and, well, I took it a little metaphorically, but still. 

Grant is a sweet, loving man.

Jemma would swear it up and down to anyone willing to listen, even though she is fully aware of how unlikely it is for most people to _believe_ her. 

Unfortunately, his loving side comes with some tendency to possessiveness and hyper protectiveness – which she supposes an hypothetical audience would be more likely to believe.

On most days, she finds it endearing enough, but considering her current situation she is—very much not looking forward to reuniting with him at the end of the day. She doesn’t enjoy the feeling: on most weeks, her current work at SHIELD is boring at best, mind-numbing at worst, and coming back to her quarters to find Grant there is the brightest part of the day. She doesn’t appreciate having it ruined, and she will not forget it.

There is a slim chance that he will not be waiting, that he was called to assist in some situation on a day when he was supposed to be free, and then she could just slip into bed, turn off the lights and avoid the confrontation.

She doesn’t hold her breath for such a spur of luck as she opens the door, though, which turns out to have been a sound a decision, when Grant comes to greet her.

The smile on his face drops impressively fast.

He closes the distance between them with one large step, his hand running to the back of her head. He’s gentle as he tilts her head backwards to take a better look, even though his face is distorted by fury.

“What happened?” he all but growls, his eyes quickly scanning the cut on her temple and the ugly bruise underneath it.

“I fell,” she promptly answers, an half-truth that he will likely not buy into.

“Bullshit.”

“I did.”

He snorts. “Right. Then _how_ did you fall?” In spite of his almost humorous tone, there is no smile on his face, just fury threatening to come out any second. Jemma is quick to clasp his hand, soothingly rubbing her thumb on the back of it in the hopes to diffuse some tension.

“The official story is that I am clumsy,” she says, gently. “I slipped.”

Grant clenches his jaw, letting go of her head and moving as if to pull away. Jemma doesn’t let him, posing her free hand on his arm and getting a solid hold of his shirt. He doesn’t try to move away again, but he doesn’t embrace her either, remaining tense in his stance, ready to attack. Jemma is pretty sure that his fingers are twitching to get a hold of his smuggled knife.

“I want the _real_ story,” he says, low and threatening. “With names.”

Jemma sighs. “I won’t give you any names, and you know that.”

She thinks she can see a vein in his temple pulsing, ready to explode. “If they think that they can _pick_ on you without any consequences—”

“Grant—”

“I will _rip their lungs out_—”

“_Grant_!” When he stops talking for half a second, Jemma quickly tries to get her say, while she has the chance. “I appreciate that, and I know you hate this, but you can’t do anything.”

“The hell I can’t.”

The look on his face says that he is willing to cut through all of SHIELD armed with only a knife if need be. She doesn’t doubt that he’d make it farther than anyone else would, and the thought that he’d do something like that just for _her_ never ceases to send shivers running up her spine, but she has no intention of standing by as he gets himself killed. Much less for something as trivial as some pathetic, badly executed attempt at bullying at her expense.

(She has had much worse, back when she was little more than a child and she didn’t even have a single soul to support her through it.)

“Grant,” she says, firmly, though a little more gently than before. “We are, metaphorically speaking, being held at gunpoint here.” Actually, the expression becomes quite literal any time she exits the labs and she gets searched, then escorted back to her quarters, and the same happens to Grant any time he is needed on an job. “One wrong move and we are _done_.” She waits for a moment, searching for his eyes in the hopes that the words are sinking in. He looks away, letting out a sharp breath as he grimaces. “I have no interest in seeing you thrown back in Vault D, or worse, alright? So, please, let this go.” 

It has hardly been the first time that her colleagues have showed their displeasure at being forced to work alongside ‘Hydra scum’, but she carefully avoided mentioning anything to Grant, letting him assume that she was only victim of the same passing remarks and scorn behind her back that he had to deal with. She did her best to avoid having to appeal to his sense of self-preservation, but those _morons_ had to make it physical, because of course they did.

She pictures stabbing them with a scalpel, and it makes her feel a little bit better.

“They shouldn’t dare touching you,” he protests, a note of desperation in his voice making her stomach shrink.

She knows him well enough to guess that, in his stupid little head, he has somehow managed to turn it around so that it is at least partially his fault, for failing to protect her from something that he has no control over, none whatsoever.

“What if—” she begins, a smile tugging at her lips as she starts playing with his hair, until he meets her eyes. “What if I told you—that they _will_ pay for it?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Didn’t you just prohibit me from doing anything about it?”

“I certainly don’t expect us to be stuck here doing SHIELD’s bidding forever,” she snorts. “So, when the time comes and we are free—I have a list ready for you. What do you say?”

That, finally, gets a smile out of him, amused and tinted with pride.

“I can live with that,” he concedes, his shoulders relaxing a little as his gaze softens.

Jemma takes the opening, giving him her biggest smile before drawing him into a kiss, fully ready to thoroughly distract him for the evening. One does what they must to keep their adorably impulsive boyfriend from getting himself killed, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


End file.
